Fourth of July (27 page)

“Where are they holding him?” The cold voice demanded.

“It said the hospital, but they’ve probably already moved him to a more secure location,” Danielle said. “He wasn’t seriously wounded.”

“When did you learn the information?”

“An hour ago, but they caught him earlier.”

“And you waited so long to call? Now it’s too late. We’ll have to find another way to get him released.”

“I called as soon as I could.” Danielle ‘s stomach turned over but she wasn’t sure if it was fear or hunger.

“If he was at the hospital, it would have been much easier.”

“I called as soon as I could,” she insisted again.

“We’ll figure something out. When are you coming in?”

“I need to take care of something first.” Danielle told the man her plan, completely forgetting her dreams of croissants when he agreed to everything. Revenge would taste better than any food.

DYLAN SLIPPED INTO HIS BED, thoroughly exhausted. Stretching on clean cotton sheets, he inhaled the scent of fabric softener and Rachel. He reached over to hold her. She stirred but didn’t awaken. Dylan reveled in her firm body close to his. Listening to her rhythmic breathing, he drifted off to sleep.

The sun pouring through the blinds woke him. Rachel snuggled into his side. He glanced at the time but the alarm clock was blinking 12:08.

“Hey, Rach.” He pulled her close. Wait. He wasn’t holding his wife. It was her miniature.

Green eyes smiled innocently at him.

“Hiya, Daddy.”

“Maddie.” He kissed her soft cheek. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“I didn’t have sweet dreams. Momma forgot to pray right.”

“Oh, that Momma.” Dylan shook his head against the white pillowcase. He hid a smile. “What
was
she thinking?”

“Sure, blame it on me,” Rachel laughed from behind Madison.

“Besides,” Madison said. “I like to sleep with you, Daddy.”

Dylan figured the occasional nighttime visit wouldn’t ruin her.

“What time is it?” Rachel asked with a yawn. “The power must’ve gone off.”

“That’s weird,” Dylan said.

“Momma! I gotta pee-pee!” Tyler’s voice carried from the next room.

“I’ll help him.” Dylan started to rise.

“No.” Rachel pushed him back down. “You enjoy snuggling Maddie. Ty, come to Momma. You can use this bathroom.”

“No.” Tyler ran into the room, bouncing. “Down, down, pee down.”

“Pee down?” Dylan asked.

“Downstairs,” Madison interpreted.

Rachel grabbed his hand. “You can go in my bathroom or use the other one upstairs.”

“No, Momma. Step is down.”

“Oh, heavens.” Rachel shook her head at Dylan, swooping Tyler into her arms. “It’s not worth an accident.”

She raced down the stairs. Dylan used one finger to torment Madison’s ribs.

“Daddy. Stop,” Madison shrieked.

“I can’t stop.” He raised one of her arms and tickled her underarm. “We haven’t had a tickle war for way too long.”

She answered with a peal of laughter.

Tyler stood on his beloved stool. His little torso pressed against the cabinet. Rachel was helping him scrub his chubby fingers when she saw a strange reflection in the pewter-framed mirror. A tall form loomed outside the open bathroom door. She blinked.

Her eyes refocused, but the apparition didn’t disappear. Her stomach clenched. Ice ran down her spine.
Who is this man?
He was clean and well dressed. He didn’t look like a thief. She whirled to face him.

“Who that, Momma?” Tyler asked.

Rachel pinned her son behind her, grasping him with both hands. “It’s okay, Ty.”

The man didn’t speak, his dark eyes bore through her.
How did he get in? What happened to their security system? The power had gone off. Had the system been disabled? Was he a terrorist?

“Who are you? What do you want?” Rachel’s jaw dropped as the stranger lifted a handgun.

“Don’t make any sudden moves, ma’am. My instructions are to bring you and at least one of the children in alive, but if I have to kill you, the child will work just fine. Is your husband upstairs?”

Terror sliced through her body. She fought to breathe. Her grip tightened on Tyler’s arms. He cried out in pain. She loosened her hold on him, but only a fraction.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay.”
Don’t panic, don’t panic
.

“Answer me if you don’t want the boy hurt.”

“Dylan’s upstairs,” Rachel whispered.

“What about the other child...upstairs?”

Rachel could only nod.

She prayed for help. She had to protect Tyler, but how? The man’s cold eyes pierced her. Tyler tried to peek. She pushed him back.

“If you pick him up and follow me now I won’t have to hurt your husband and kill one of your children.” The calm way he talked terrified her more than the words. There was no doubt he was completely serious and would do exactly as he said.

She did as commanded. She had to protect Dylan and Madison. She hugged Tyler tightly. Sensing her fear, his little body began to shake and tears cascaded down his face.

“Momma,” he cried out.

“He needs to be quiet if you want him to live.”

“It’s okay, Ty.” Rachel jutted her chin out to hold the tears at bay. “Be quiet, sweetie. You’re okay.”

Tyler plunged his thumb into his mouth.

Rachel cowered against the bathroom counter top and shielded Tyler from the gun. The man waved the weapon, indicating she should move. She darted around the toilet, flattening herself against the wall. She shifted Tyler to her other hip, as far away from the man as possible.

“I’m glad you came down.” He stuck a note on the bathroom mirror. “Makes it easier not to kill anyone.”

Rachel shuddered. What if Dylan and Madison come downstairs? This horrible man talked about killing the way most people mentioned walking their dog.
Please don’t let them come.

Her eyes darted around the small bathroom. What could she do? Was there a way to escape?

“Let’s go.” He used the gun to motion her out the door.

She glanced back at the note. His intentions clearly displayed. They were being kidnapped. She had to escape. Her mind scrambled for a solution. Screaming was out of the question. Running wasn’t an option. She couldn’t win against a gun, but she had to protect her baby. Could she talk him into leaving Tyler?

“Please,” her voice quivered, “I’ll go with you and I won’t put up a fight, but let me leave Tyler here.”

“No.”

“Please.” Rachel’s mind raced. How could she convince him? She couldn’t let Tyler be kidnapped. She couldn’t let him hurt her son.

“We could tie him up and give you time to get away,” she suggested. “There’s some rope in the garage.”

The tears ran freely down her face as she thought of tying her sweet boy. How could she look into his eyes and do such a thing? She straightened her shoulders. She could do it if it meant protecting him. Tying him up was much better than the alternative.

The man roughly spun Rachel and Tyler around, shoving the gun into the small of her back. The horrible pressure of unforgiving steel brought hot tears to her eyes.

“I said no. Now move.”

Would Dylan and Madison ever know how much she loved them? Could she protect Tyler? Her life was of little consequence, compared with her boy. Would his precious life be snuffed out by this kidnapper’s gun?

Pressing a fist to her mouth, she contained the sob rising in her throat.

“Let’s go.” He pushed her out the back door and down the garage steps.

Rachel could hear Madison giggling upstairs. How far away such innocence and safety felt. Dredging up every ounce of strength she possessed, she put one foot in front of the other. She clung fiercely to her little boy.

“If you don’t let me leave Tyler, I’ll scream.” It was her only option. Dylan would rescue them.

“If you scream,” his voice was low and threatening, “I will kill you and the boy, and then beat your husband until he’s unconscious. We only need one hostage. Your daughter would suffice and you can imagine what your husband would be willing to give us to rescue his only surviving family member.”

Maddie! Dylan! Tyler!
Rachel felt a sharp stab of pain, knowing this awful man wasn’t lying to her. He would kill her and Tyler. At least he’d have a battle trying to take Madison from Dylan. But she couldn’t risk Tyler. Tears streamed down her face.

Rachel had to consciously force herself not to scream for help. It went against every instinct in her body to keep walking. They made it through the garage and out the side door.

“Please let me leave the boy. If you need a hostage, you’ll have me,” Rachel begged the brute.
Please, Lord, don’t let him hurt Tyler. Don’t let him hurt Tyler.

“Shut up,” he demanded. “If you ask again, I’ll shoot the boy, and you
will
come alone.”

Rachel’s entire body convulsed, her motherly instinct making her want to gouge this man’s eyes out. No one threatened her baby but she was helpless. Tyler’s body molded itself to hers. She fought to keep herself from sobbing. She feared the man would shoot them without any provocation. The fear almost paralyzed her as she walked slowly in front of the vile creature.

She glanced up at the second story, wishing Dylan could see them. Their bedroom windows overlooked the backyard. Unless he went into Madison or Tyler’s room for some reason he wouldn’t know what had happened to them until he saw the note.

The man nudged her toward a car idling at the curb. As he opened the back door, Rachel began to protest, but the words died in her throat when the evil man aimed his gun directly at her son. Clinging to Tyler, she ducked into the car.

The sobs Rachel had been trying to control shook her lean frame. Watching in utter horror, her hopes were shattered as they drove away from her home, her sweetheart, and any possibility of rescue.

DYLAN WATCHED MADISON PIROUETTE, leap, and kick around the bedroom.

“That’s great.” He applauded her efforts. “You learned a lot this week at dance.”

“Thanks, Daddy. I love being a ballerina.”

Rachel and Tyler still hadn’t come back upstairs.

“Do you think your mom is making us breakfast?”

“Oooh!” Madison squealed. “I hope pancakes.”

Dylan stood. “Me, too. Let’s go check.”

“Just a minute, Daddy. I need to put on a princess dress.”

“Does Mommy let you eat in your princess dresses?”

Madison dug her toe into the berber rug. “Sometimes,” she muttered. Her face brightened. “She will if I wear a towel around my neck.”

“Okay, but you’ll have to change before church.”

“Thanks, Daddy!” She rushed to her bedroom.

Dylan descended the stairs.

“Rachel? Tyler?”

The kitchen was vacant.

“Rach? Ty?”

Where could they have gone? He looked out the French doors to the back yard. Nothing. His voice rose as he searched the main floor. “Rachel!”

“Ra...” Her name died in his throat as he entered the main bath and saw the note taped to the mirror.

“We have your family. Follow our instructions and they will remain unharmed. Deliver our man to the harbor of the Potomac River, Dock 13, at precisely seven p.m. You will come alone. Our associate will be unharmed. If you are followed, your family will be executed.”